License to Lie

by Terry Ambrose

  Tommy raised his hands in a gesture of futility. “Don’t know, Rox.”

  Skip glanced around the bar. He quickly counted a dozen or so stools at the bar and maybe twice that many tables. The place was perhaps half filled. “You do a good business for a Tuesday.”

  Tommy said, “I know what you’re thinking, buddy, but none of these people was here when Richard took off. There were a few in earlier, but they was just grabbing a sandwich after work, then heading out. Wish I’d have known Richard went AWOL, I could’ve called Evelyn. It probably wouldn’t have mattered much. The guy he left with seemed to connect with him pretty good.”

  Skip asked, “Did he know this guy?”

  “Dunno. Like I said, never seen the guy before. They just struck up a conversation like they was old buddies. No, wait—the guy introduced himself. I think he said something about having worked for Richard once. I was getting kinda busy then.”

  “He was one of my dad’s employees?”

  “I dunno, Rox. Your dad didn’t seem to recognize him at first. ‘Course, he was pretty wasted by then. I never seen him drink like that before. I was gonna take his keys, but the other guy said he’d drive.”

  “I didn’t see his car out front or in the lot where he always parks,” Roxy said.

  “Can’t help you there, either. I can’t really see where people park.”

  Roxy nodded. “I know. Just seems funny that it wasn’t there if someone else drove.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Bizarro,” Tommy said.

  “Was Richard upset about something?” Skip watched Tommy closely and saw a glance at Roxy. He caught a slight setting of the other man’s jaw.

  “Yeah, but I don’t know what he was upset about. He didn’t say.”

  But you just did, thought Skip. “You said they left about an hour ago?”

  Tommy nodded. “Wish I knew where they went.”

  Roxy drained the last of her glass. “So do I. I’m going to use the ladies room before we go. Be right back.”

  Skip nodded, thankful that he’d have a moment alone with Tommy. As she slipped away, Tommy watched her while Skip watched Tommy.

  “Girl’s hot, man,” Tommy said. “You her boyfriend?”

  “She and her mom hired me to find her dad. I don’t have much time. You lied about not knowing what Richard was upset about. Did it have something to do with Roxy?”

  The color drained from Tommy’s face. He grabbed the towel he’d hung over his shoulder and began to wipe the bar. “I—I can’t.”

  “Richard Tanner may be in some sort of trouble. If you know something, tell me. I won’t tell Roxy. This is in confidence between you and me. You don’t have time to think about it Tommy, she’ll be back in a minute.”

  Tommy let out a deep breath. “Richard never said exactly what he was upset about, just that Roxy lied to him about something.”

  “That’s it? Come on, there has to be more.” Skip glanced in the direction of the restrooms, no Roxy yet.

  Tommy grimaced and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Don’t lock up on me, Tommy. We don’t have time for niceties.”

  “Okay, okay. It has something to do with Roxy’s business. She’s got him totally screwed up. He kept saying something about a scam.”

  Skip saw movement down by the restrooms, but it wasn’t Roxy. Another woman emerged. She held Skip’s gaze as she sauntered to a table where she sat with two other women.

  “Barracuda, man, be careful,” Tommy said.

  Skip ignored the comment. “Did the other guy know anything about this? Did they talk about it?”

  Tommy stared off into space for a second. “You know, now that you mention it, he did seem to be asking a lot of questions about it. Sounded like there was a lot of money involved.”

  “How much?”

  “Don’t know. I never heard a number.”

  As far as Skip could tell, Tommy wasn’t lying. He spotted another movement by the restrooms. This time it was Roxy. He had thirty seconds, at most. “The guy that Richard was with, did he look dangerous?”

  “Dangerous, I don’t know. Suspicious, oh yeah. Big time.”

  Roxy smiled and winked at Tommy as she approached. “Hey, you two look deep in conversation. What’s up?”

  Skip nodded in Tommy’s direction. “We have irreconcilable differences. He’s a Padres fan, I’m for the Dodgers.”

  Her smile dimmed for a fraction of a second, but he noticed the reaction. She knew he’d lied. At this point, it couldn’t be helped. They’d reached an impasse. She’d lied to him. He’d done it to her. He should walk away from this case. And her. But he felt a responsibility to Evelyn Tanner. He’d promised her he’d find her husband and he wasn’t about to be the one to tell her Richard wasn’t coming home. He had to find Richard Tanner as quickly as possible. And that meant he had no choice but to lie to Roxy. If he didn’t, he had a hunch that Richard Tanner might never get home alive.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Roxy

  Men seem to think that women have bladders about the size of a thimble. All we have to do is say, “I gotta go,” and they immediately assume the “call” is legit. Handled properly, that little ploy can be used to keep a guy at bay, reel him in, or just stall for time. On a double date, it can be used to compare notes, catch up on girl talk, or even make up an excuse to bail. In this case, I suspected that Skip had something he wanted to say to Tommy, probably about me, so I downed my wine and played the ladies-room card—not out of necessity, but curiosity.

  As I suspected, the two clammed up immediately upon my return. That could only mean one thing—my suspicions had been correct. Like it or not, I had to wait to learn what it was that Tommy told Skip. Despite the fact that I’d prepared myself for a ruse, the fact that Tommy hadn’t piped up with the truth hurt. I tried not to let it show, but I didn’t quite pull it off. Skip had read my reaction, so he knew that I knew that . . . whatever.

  We said our good-byes to Tommy and went outside. I breathed in the cool air. “So, are we hitting a few more bars?”

  “I think so. Maybe we’ll get—maybe that guy took him to another bar.”

  Mentally, I bit my tongue and held back a statement of the obvious. After what you just pulled, you’re definitely not getting lucky tonight. I pointed to my left. “There’s O’Sullivans over one block, Mas Fina is an easy walk, too—assuming you’re not dead drunk. But I doubt that he’s gone to either of those.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “If my dad wanted food, he’d probably have stayed here. But you never know.”

  He nodded. “I agree. What the hell, let’s try ‘em.”

  Skip tried to make small talk as we walked, but my mind was elsewhere. Now that I knew my dad had found a drinking buddy from the old days, I wasn’t worried about him. Maybe I could turn this encounter with Skip into something positive—like a contact with Herman Nordoff.

  In short order, we’d learned that my dad hadn’t been to either of the two, so we expanded the search to a larger geographic area. It was nearly eleven and I’d lost track of how many bars we’d been to. We were walking back to the car when I said, “I don’t think we’re going to find him.”

  Skip shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “As much as I hate to say it, I think you’re right. Once they got in a car to go somewhere, they could’ve gone anywhere. Two guys who are drunk, who knows what they might do?”

  I’d been nine the last time Dad had pulled a stunt like this. Oh my God. I’d been a holy terror for almost six months. For six long months I’d made Mom and Dad’s lives miserable. I’d acted out in almost every way possible. I jumped at the touch on my left arm and jerked it away.

  Skip peered at me in the glow of the streetlamp. “Hey, you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “I’m fine. Just—thinking about my dad.” I smiled. “I’m sure he’s off somewhere with this new friend knocking down who knows what kind of drinks. He’ll probably come home in
the morning, or more likely, afternoon, with his tail between his legs.”

  Skip stuffed his hands back into his pockets. He held my gaze.

  I watched condensation from my breath dissipate into the night. “Guess I ruined your record for the day, sorry about that.”

  “I don’t—oh, you mean Nordoff. In a sense, that was a lucky break.”

  “Because the kid was so into soccer?”

  “Yeah. This is harder.”

  “Herman Nordoff has to be pretty happy with you right now.”

  He hesitated and hunkered down into his jacket. “Let’s stay focused on your dad, okay?”

  I thought, Dad’s perfectly fine. He’s found a new buddy. Mom’s right, the pressure of his bad choices has gotten to him. “So, what do you want to do, then? We can’t hit every bar in San Diego County.”

  “We need to figure out who the guy was that he met.”

  I stared at him, felt my jaw hanging slack. “Right. Middle of the night and we’re going to do employment checks. We’ll just call every former employee and ask them if my dad is sleeping on the couch by any chance.”

  Skip glanced at his watch. “It is late, isn’t it? You should’ve called your mom.”

  “I didn’t want to tie up the line in case Dad called her.”

  “Let’s go back. I don’t think there’s much more we can do tonight.”

  We were quiet as we returned to the car. The silence continued and grew in the car until it dominated the air. Skip seemed lost in thought and the lack of communication wasn’t helping my cause any. Somehow, I needed to get him talking again, this time about Nordoff.

  Ahead of us, at the end of the off-ramp and on the other side of Tamarack, the circular remnant of an old 76 gas station sign loomed atop a fifty-foot support. The station had closed, the property had been fenced off, and the sign had been covered in some weird black material that, on foggy nights, gave the place a ghostly cast. The station was an eyesore and an eerie reminder of how fickle fate can be. I pointed at the corner. “You ever wonder why they went out of business?”

  “Who knows?” Skip said. “It could have been they needed to replace tanks. Or maybe it was just too small. Everyone wants bigger stations like that.” He jerked his thumb toward the AM/PM on the corner with it’s brightly lit new pumps and minimart.

  “My dad’s business was small, but they had a good reputation. Even so, he couldn’t compete with the big boys. That’s why he sold out.”

  “Everybody bitches about crappy service, but what do they do? Flock to the big box stores for the lowest price. Your dad made a smart decision.”

  “That’s where people like Nordoff come in. They finance those big deals so everyone can abandon the small businesses.”

  Skip turned sideways in his seat so that he was half facing me. “You’re kidding, right? I’m not sure I condone all of his projects, but Nordoff’s done some that have brought big improvements to several less desirable neighborhoods.”

  The light turned green, so I made my turn onto Tamarack. “That’s true. He’s got some environmental projects going, too? Doesn’t he?”

  “Beats me. All I know is that I see his name in the paper now and then. He’s gruff, but he was certainly worried about his kid.”

  I made my turn off of Tamarack. This conversation was getting me nowhere. One last try. “I’ll bet they’re going to take the kid someplace quiet for a while, just to get away.”

  As I pulled into the driveway, Skip said, “I doubt it, they just want to get back to a normal life. That’s what your mom needs to do, keep things normal. Do you want me to continue working on this tomorrow?”

  “Let’s ask her. Lights are on. Come on in.”

  I led the way to the front door, surprised that Mom wasn’t standing in front of the kitchen window keeping guard. The porch light brightened the entryway, but left the doorknob and lock in shadows. I fumbled with my key, all the time wondering why Mom wasn’t already at the door.

  Inside, I flipped on the hall light. I called out, “Mom?” I faced Skip. “Where could she be?”

  Skip’s forehead creased as he turned to me. “Think she’s asleep?”

  Not Mom. She wouldn’t fall asleep until Dad came home or she worried herself into exhaustion and collapsed. I walked into the living room. The lights were on, but no Mom.

  “Roxy,” Skip said.

  “What?” I saw him point down the hall. Had something happened to her? I made it to the hallway in three steps. That’s when I saw the light coming from Dad’s office. Don’t tell me she’s been in there all night, I thought.

  I took a deep breath and prepared myself for another crying jag. At the doorway, I looked in. There she was, sitting, staring off into space, at his desk. “Mom! What are you doing?”

  Skip slipped into the room behind me. I barely heard him, but sensed his presence. “Evelyn?” He knelt in front of her. “Evelyn? Can you hear me?”

  She stared at him blankly. Had she had a stroke? What happened?

  Skip pulled a piece of paper from between her fingers. Her gaze followed the paper as he held it out for both of us to read.

  My eyes widened as I read.

  My pulse quickened.

  Skip muttered, “Shit.”

  My breath caught. I had to read the cryptic message again. I stared at Skip, then Mom, then Skip again. The words almost stuck in my throat. “He’s been kidnapped?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Skip

  Skip stared at the note. Computer generated. Laser printer. Nothing unique. Probably the work of a professional.

  He read the message again. It was the worst possible scenario. One he’d never considered given the circumstances—middle-class family, retired, no major assets. But, the message on the note was clear. “We have your husband. Have $5 million ready by noon or we will kill him. No police or he dies.”

  Kidnapping had never been a crime directed at just the rich, but five million dollars? From a middle class family? Were these people insane? The Nordoffs had that kind of money, not the Tanners. This had to be a mistake.

  Skip read the fear and concern for her husband’s life in Evelyn’s watery eyes. They were tinged in shades of red far darker than before. The worry lines ran deeper than they had just a few hours ago. It was almost as though she’d aged ten years since he’d last seen her. She asked the obvious, and the most desperate, question. “What am I going to do?”

  Skip took in Roxy’s features—eyes glistening, jaw set. “This has to be a joke. A sick, twisted, perverted . . .” Roxy turned away, her voice cracked. “Who’d do this?”

  “And why?” Skip said. “Neither of you have this kind of money. Do you?” He already knew Evelyn’s answer. She’d as much as said she had little left. But Roxy, what did she have? He remembered what Tommy had said at the bar. Could Roxy be involved in some sort of scam? Was this all some sort of elaborate plan to get to her?

  Roxy stared across the room into the corner. She shook her head absently for a few seconds, then frowned and looked at her mother. “How did this arrive, Mom?”

  Alarm bells, again, thought Skip. Why had she dodged the question?

  Evelyn picked up an envelope and held it out. “The doorbell rang. I don’t know, maybe an hour ago? I thought it was you—maybe you forgot your key or something.”

  “The envelope was on the door?” said Skip.

  She nodded.

  Skip started to take the envelope from Evelyn, but stopped. If it had fingerprints, they didn’t need to complicate the forensics processing. “There might be prints on that. We should use gloves.”

  Roxy grabbed the envelope from Evelyn. “That would only be if we went to the cops. And we can’t do that.”

  Skip fought back the impulse to slap her hand, but it was already too late. He settled for examining it over Roxy’s shoulder. It was a standard business #10. White. Self-sealing. The message on the front of the envelope had apparently been generated by a laser printer also. It read
, “URGENT! EVELYN TANNER.”

  This wasn’t what he’d signed on for. He was supposed to find a missing husband, not conduct a kidnapping investigation. “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m not licensed for this type of work. You need a private investigator. Better yet, the police or FBI.”

  Evelyn let out a moan. She stared up at Skip with pleading eyes. “Please.”

  “I’m good at tracking people,” Skip said. “I’m a good hypnotist. But I’m not a PI.” And not trained to investigate cons, if this was one. If so, who was being conned? And for what purpose? Other than the few grand that he’d made this morning, he had no money. He remembered Roxy’s questions about Nordoff. His instincts told him Evelyn was on the level, but what about her daughter? Was this some sort of plot to extract money from Nordoff? Impossible. Nordoff had no reason to become involved.

  “Maybe that’s what we need,” Roxy said.

  “Need? What, a PI?”

  “No, a hypnotist. Mom, did you see anything when you went to the door? Maybe you saw someone or something that could help.”

  Evelyn’s lower lip quivered as she seemed to try and recall the moment. “There was something, some movement.”

  Skip asked, “Was there a car running? A person? Anything?”

  She shook her head. Her cheek twitched. “I don’t know.”

  Roxy persisted. “You could hypnotize her, right? Maybe she’d remember the details.”

  Evelyn Tanner just looked so sincere. She was a middle-aged housewife, not a con artist. She had to be telling the truth, right? That left Roxy. He dismissed the thought. No matter what she was doing, she wouldn’t kidnap her own father. Would she?

  “So will you do it?” Roxy said.

  He could hypnotize Evelyn, but why? If they didn’t have the money and they weren’t going to call the police, Richard Tanner was a dead man. “I doubt that anything she remembers is going to bring your dad back. You don’t have the money. You’ve got to call the police. If they want me to hypnotize your mom, sure. As it stands, there’s no reason to put her through that.” He watched Roxy’s face carefully as she processed this information.

  “If Mom and I had more information, maybe we’d know how credible this is. We’d know whether to start scrambling for money or try to buy time or—or even bring in the cops.”